Pākī (Broken)
by water4willows
Summary: Sometimes it takes something terrible to bring two people back together. (Or the one where Steve doesn't come into work, and Danny goes to investigate.) A sickfic. Hints of mcdanno, but squint and you might miss it.


A/N: A huge thank you to Pantoffel, BlueJay141519, WhumperWriter and (as always) the lovely LadyRiesling, for their help with this. Honestly loves, I couldn't have done it without you.

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 **Pākī (Broken)**

The house is quiet when he enters, the blinds drawn tight and lights turned low. He didn't knock because they're beyond such things at this point. Danny is as much at home in Steve's space as he is in his own.

"Steve?" He's slipped in through the front, careful and silent, reminding himself to chastise Steve later for his blatant lack of caution in leaving the front door unlocked. Haven't there been enough attempts on their lives to at least warrant the deadbolt? Not that a deadbolt would keep Danny out. Steve called in sick to work this morning, and that in itself is cause for alarm and grounds to kick in the door. Or a window, if need be.

"Steve?" He tries again.

Danny walks towards the living room, following after the sounds of the television turned low. He learned long ago that the worst thing you can do is sneak up on Steve McGarrett. As with most wild things, you have to go slow, show you're not a threat, approach cautiously. He does all these things, but Steve is not in the living room as predicted. The couch is empty and Danny strains his hearing to search for indications of his friend. It's there, mingling in with the low tones of the TV, moans coming from the upstairs bathroom.

Danny takes the stairs two at a time. Throwing caution to the wind, he charges up to the open bathroom door and stops dead in his tracks. Steve is lying beside the toilet bowl, the pink-tinged contents of his stomach souring the air and bringing a chill to Danny's spine. He's never been good with the physical manifestations of illness, so he steps into the room and flushes it away.

Steve is curled up on his side, clutching at his stomach. Danny approaches him slowly, completely aware of the fact that his sudden arrival has gone unnoticed, and kneels on the cold tile beside his partner. Steve's skin is grey, with fever red splotches coloring his cheeks. Danny touches the back of his hand to the former SEAL's forehead and pulls it back with a gasp. Steve is burning up, offering further proof of his illness with a low moan that escapes past colorless lips as he chases after the comfort of Danny's touch. The former New Jersey detective returns his hand to Steve's face and runs a comforting thumb across the dry, hot skin of Steve's jaw.

"Steve?" The SEAL's eyes are still closed, but he visibly reacts to his name. "Steve? Open your eyes, babe."

McGarrett obeys, but he can only manage to crack open one.

"Are you all right?" Danny asks.

"M'sick," comes the slurred reply.

"I can see that," Danny volleys right back, biting back against the irritation that threatens to sharpen his words. Steve is not doing this just to piss him off. He needs to remind himself of that. "Do I need to call someone? Does this have anything to do with… you know." They haven't spoken about Steve's radiation poisoning since that night of the party. Still, it's there every day between them, this immovable obstruction blocking their way back to each other. Danny keeps trying to find ways around it, but the path remains obstinately blocked. All he knows about what's happening to his partner is what he's read on Google and that's enough to scare the shit out of anyone. Something's got to give, or this distance is going to drive him mad. "Is this one of those spells?" he finally asks.

"M'fine." Steve mumbles, curling further into himself as whatever ails him rears its ugly head again. Danny touches the SEAL's shoulder lightly, but shakes his head.

"That's not what I asked, Steven."

Steve opens both eyes at that and glances up at his partner, his skin progressing from grey to green right before Danny's eyes. He manages to drag the SEAL up from the floor by his arm just as Steve begins to helplessly dry heave into the bowl.

"It's okay. You're okay," Danny soothes, rubbing comforting circles into Steve's sweaty back with his palm. The SEAL shakes beneath him as Danny moves in closer and uses his free hand to grip Steve's shoulder to keep him upright.

The heat radiating from his partner is unbelievable. It soaks into his own skin as he supports his sick friend through the heaving. When Steve finally collapses against Danny, they both end up back on the floor, Steve between Danny's now outstretched legs and cradled in the detective's arms. A warm, sweaty forehead comes to rest against Danny's bicep.

"How long?"

Steve doesn't say anything for a long time, just trembles and breathes against Danny's hold. For a moment the New Jersey native wonders if Steve has passed out, but a beat later, the SEAL finally answers.

"Few hours ago."

"And it never occurred to you to pick up a goddamn phone and call me?"

Steve pulls in a shuddering breath. "Couldn't make it that far."

Danny opens his mouth to let loose the rant that's been building up inside his gut since the front door, but stops dead in his tracks when the realization of what Steve's just said dawns on him. The confession slices through his heart and burns in the center of his chest. It means Steve tried. It means he stumbled or crawled across the floor, but was too weak or in too much pain to make it all the way to his phone.

Danny pulls Steve in closer and rests a cheek against the SEALs hair, not caring about the heat or the sweat. Steve doesn't protest and suddenly, it's like they're back to the way they were before. That insufferable barrier between them is gone and Danny feels like he can breathe for the first time in weeks. He can't recall the last time he touched his partner, not really, not like this. They've always been more intimate than most, but it hasn't been the same as of late. Not since Steve told him about the radiation poisoning, dropped words like "consequences down the road" and then avoided him for days. Now it's like something has clicked itself back into place and Danny's not sure what he needs to do to make sure it stays like that.

"Have you taken anything?" Is all he can think to ask.

"I puked up my pills."

"The blue ones?" Steve nods weakly and Danny feels it. "Other ones, too."

"Other ones?"

"On the bedside table."

Danny understands what needs to happen now. Somehow he's going to have to hoist 180 pounds of pure Navy SEAL up off the floor and wrangle him into bed. He's trying to figure out the logistics of it all when Steve starts to talk again.

"Danny?" He asks weakly, the words barely louder than a whisper.

"Yeah?"

Steve lifts his head so his forehead is now pressing into Danny's neck. "This really sucks." Steve's voice hitches and something wet and warm drips onto Danny's skin. He lifts a hand to the side of Steve's face and presses a chaste kiss to his partner's temple. "I know it does, babe. But you're gonna get through this. I'm gonna help you."

"I'm – I'm sorry I've been such an ass." Danny knows Steve wouldn't normally talk like this to him, but the fever and the radiation sickness are changing the rules of the game. Normally they would banter back and forth for days before laying it all out in the open. Danny's not sure if he likes this fever induced change, or if he prefers their old ways.

"Well you should be," he eventually answers. "You've been driving me crazy for weeks with the macho man act." Steve half sobs - half laughs against his neck and Danny can't help but smile. The smile is short lived, however, as Steve's laugh turns into a full body shiver that chatters his teeth.

"I know it seems impossible right now, buddy, but we really do need to get you up off this floor." After a moment, Steve nods against his neck. "You gonna puke again?" The SEAL seems to entertain the thought, but eventually shakes his head. "Good, cause you better not ruin this shirt. It's my favorite." Danny doesn't mention that the heat and the sweat coming off the SEAL probably already has.

"Ok, I'm gonna need your help with this, babe," Danny informs his partner, but Steve's already on the ball. He pulls himself up from the circle of Danny's arms without much aid and sits cross-legged on the floor with his face buried in his hands. A low moan issues from behind his fingers, but Steve doesn't appear to be in any immediate danger, so Danny uses the moment to scramble back up to his feet. He runs one of the hand towels hanging from the rings on the wall under the tap and hands the dripping cloth down to his partner. Steve takes it with a grateful wince, and wipes the cool material across his heated skin.

"Ready?" Danny asks when he's done and Steve nods. Pretty sure his partner isn't lying, Danny reaches out a hand and together, they manage to wrangle McGarrett up from the floor and to standing. There's a moment when Steve's face drains of what little color it held and he teeters, almost going down again, but Danny's quick reflexes save them from catastrophe. Danny throws one of the SEALs heavy arms across his shoulders and half carries, half drags his weakened partner down the hallway and into the bedroom. He carefully deposits Steve on the edge of his bed. The short trip down the hall has turned Steve into a quaking, shivering mess with glassy eyes that seem to have trouble focusing on anything in particular. It's worrying Danny to no end.

"Maybe I should take you to the hospital," he suggests as he reaches out to touch the back of his hand to Steve's forehead again. It's still hotter than he figures it ought to be.

The SEAL blinks up at him slowly. "It'll pass, Danno."

"But, you're burning up," Danny points out petulantly.

Steve just shrugs. "It happens."

"It happens?" Danny's eyebrows chase up after his hairline.

Steve nods.

"Oh, it happens!" Danny can feel anger color his cheeks. "So I should just leave you here to ride it out on your own, right? Hope you don't die on the bathroom floor when you puke up your insides?"

"Danny…"

"Oh don't you 'Danny' me, Steven," Danny sneers. Steve lets his head fall forward and Danny almost feels remorse for his tirade, almost. "Let me take you to the hospital, just to get checked out. There's no sense in torturing yourself like this."

"I don't need to go to the hospital." Steve mumbles into his chest.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I can't hear excuses from over here."

"I said, no hospital." Somehow Steve manages to raise his head and glare defiantly up at Danny.

"Why not, huh?" Steve stares at him blankly. "No seriously, Steven, I want to hear this. Please tell me how NOT going to the hospital with an impossibly high fever is the smart thing to do in this situation. Ten minutes ago you couldn't even pick yourself up off the floor!"

"Because they already said there's nothing they can do for me, Danny!" Steve all but yells at him and Danny takes an involuntary step backwards, shocked. Steve's eyes go wide with surprise, like he's just let something slip he wasn't supposed to. Had he been a more ridiculous person, he might have even slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Already said…" Danny repeats, chewing on the words. "So… what you're saying is you've already been to the hospital."

Steve visibly deflates before Danny's eyes as the SEAL heaves a weary sigh.

Danny wants to be mad at his partner - to rage and scream and throw things - but he's oddly calm at the moment. His lack of reaction seems to be worrying Steve who's looking at him strangely.

"I went last night," his partner confesses. "They gave me some pills and told me take it easy. That's what I was trying to do today. Take it easy."

Danny folds his arms across his chest and studies his partner, earlier thoughts that they had somehow patched up their relationship in the bathroom dissolving into the slow simmering rage slowly taking over his insides. Steve's already been to the hospital. He felt terrible enough last night to get in his truck, drive himself to the ER, and pointedly not call Danny. Have things really gotten this bad between them? When did Steve decide Danny no longer matters in all of this?

"Danny…" Steve begins, but doesn't get to finish. Danny puts up a hand to stop him.

"Where are your pills?"

Steve nods towards the bedside table that houses his alarm clock and three shiny new prescription bottles. A glass thermometer that has probably been around the McGarrett house since before Doris left is sitting there as well and Danny scoops it up along with the brown bottles. The thermometer he shoves into his partner's protesting mouth, a stern look all it takes to kill the argument readying itself on the tip on Steve's tongue. The bottles he throws on the bed beside Steve. Once he's sure his obstinate friend will obey his unspoken order, Danny goes in search of a glass of water. Outside in the hall and out of Steve's sightline, he collapses against a wall. Emotions clog the back of his throat and he digs his fingernails into his palms to keep them from bubbling over.

Steve is sick. Steve is sick, and there's nothing Danny can do about it. He's sick and no amount of ignoring or dancing around the issue is going to fix it. Danny's done his research, he knows how this can inevitably end, and he's scared to death. Maybe that's why he's let Steve push him away and cut him out.

For one brief moment, Danny lets himself entertain the idea of letting Steve get away with this, of stepping aside and leaving McGarrett to his own devices. He could do it, he imagines; walk back out the front door and never look back.

Danny peeks around the corner and back into Steve's bedroom. The SEAL has his face buried in his hands again, silent sobs shaking his abnormally bony frame. Danny didn't notice it before, but Steve's lost some weight. His shoulders jut out more, juxtaposed against a slimmer than normal waistline. Christ, this is really happening, isn't it?

Danny straightens and lets his head fall back against the wall behind him. Giving up isn't something Williams' men do. They push forward, always, and never let anything get in their way. Especially not obdurate former Navy SEAL's with death wishes. Not to mention the fact that Steve doesn't have any family on the island to take care of him now. Who does he have but Danny? And what, he was just going to walk away from that?

No, Danny figures in that moment, punching the wall behind him as if in oath. He's not going to let Steve drive him off and handle this on his own. Who knows, maybe Danny's refusal to let it all lie will make all the difference. Course corrected, Danny pushes off from the wall and goes in search of water.

When he gets back to the bedroom, all traces of Steve's breakdown are gone. His face is still flushed with fever, but the thermometer shows a non-life threatening 102 degrees. He swallows down the pills Danny shakes out for him without complaint and is just about to collapse back against the pillows when Danny stops him.

Steve is drenched in sweat and the front of his white t-shirt is covered in sickness. It's got to come off, so Danny makes a beeline for the dresser drawer where he knows Steve keeps his extra t-shirts. Danny's been in this drawer a time or two before, mostly for Steve, but a handful of times for himself. He procures a clean shirt from the top of the meticulously folded pile and a pair of loose cotton pants and returns to his friend's side. Steve is swaying precariously, his energy reserves finally depleted, and Danny can't blame him. He's spent the past however many hours hunched over the toilet bowl. Hell, Danny had been this close to dragging his ass to the hospital mere moments ago. Finding his anger slowly being replaced by compassion, Danny helps his weakened partner out of his soiled clothing and into the new ones. Steve climbs into bed without comment as Danny disposes of the ruined articles in Steve's clothes hamper. When he returns to the bed, the former SEAL has his eyes closed. Danny perches himself on the edge of the bed.

After a few quiet seconds, Steve opens his eyes again. The laugh lines on either side of his face have deepened, but not from mirth. Pain has dug in and formed trenches around eyes that are still red from crying. The green tinge hasn't quite left his skin, and Danny is glad to see there is a waste paper basket beside the bed should Steve need to use it again. Somewhere outside Steve's drawn bedroom curtains a motorcycle screeches down the street.

"Thanks, Danno," Steve says quietly and Danny lets out a sigh. There are things he wants to say here, things he should say. Like how he's not about to let Steve push him away anymore. About how he's here to stay and how they'll get through this if only Steve would lean on him a little and let him help. All of them should be said, but he abandons it all to some other time and some other day. Danny reaches out to pull the covers a little further up towards Steve's chin in the same way he's done with Grace a million and a half times before. Before he can pull his hand away, Steve grabs his arm. The skin to skin connection is hot, and Danny's not entirely convinced it's the fever still burning away in Steve's body. It's the spark of something reconnecting; for real this time. The connection repairs and sticks. It's not going anywhere and neither, he suddenly realizes, is he.

Fin.


End file.
